Puck, The Lost Boy
by Ode to a Fangirl
Summary: Why does Puck have such a deep loathing for Peter Pan? Once Upon a Time Season Three Neverland crossover.
1. Chapter 1

Puck climbed out onto the roof. The stars above twinkled brightly. It was a bit chilly outside, but anything was better than what was inside of his home.

Why did his parents feel the need to push him into an arranged marriage? Really? Gross.

And his dad was such a jerk face. He was never there to help. Sometimes, well, all of the time, he wondered if his dad even noticed that he was alive. He knew that he shouldn't, but sometimes, he hated his dad. And his mom and brother weren't that much better.

Sitting on the roof usually helped him, but right now, all it did was make him realize how alone and abandoned he felt, even though his family was alive and well under the roof he was seated on.

He heard the strains of a song. It was haunting and beautiful. It beckoned him forward, to where, he had no idea. But he could not resist. His wings popped out, and he followed the sweet strains of the frightening and welcoming melody.

Puck had no idea how far he had gone. He had flown over dozens of cities, quite a few lakes, and who knows how many houses. Honestly, he didn't care. The tune kept drifting through the air, changing with wind, and it was all that occupied his mind. No thoughts about what he was leaving behind. Why should that matter? It seemed that the song promised all he could ever want.

He kept flying forward, heading straight for one of the brightest stars in the sky. Was it the first star on the right? The second? Puck didn't really care. All that really mattered was the song that promised everything.

Puck finally reached his destination. How long did it take to get there? It felt like only moments. Or was it? Here, it felt like time was stopped, leaving him slightly confused.

He staggered onto the beach. The song was growing louder, more urgent. He needed to find it.

Puck stumbled over the beaten, rocky path. He shoved branches out of the way, only to have most of them snap back into his face. Puck tried his best to run, but the best he got was an awkward jog. But he kept pushing to go faster.

He was sure he had scratches all over his face, legs, and arms, but he didn't care right now. All he cared about right now was the song. It was surrounding him, leading him to where he was supposed to be.

Finally, he crashed through the exit of the path. It led into a large opening, a huge fire in the middle. The song was growing frenzied, a drum now joining in to keep the pace incredibly, impossibly fast.

Puck saw other boys dancing like madmen around the bonfire, howling, grunting, and making all sorts of noise. But they seemed happy, completely care free, and that's where Puck wanted to be. He trampled into the ring of boys, grinning crazily. He joined in the crazy dances, all of the boys following the beat of the drums. There were arms swinging, legs kicking. There was no proper dancing, no waltzes, and no square dances. Just wild movement, thrusting your body however you wanted to.

Out of the corner of his eye, Puck spotted one boy, standing all alone. The boy was smirking demonically, the fire dancing in his eyes.

Then, it all started to fade away. The lone boy, the fire, the circle of boys, the forest, everything. He was covered in darkness, and all that was left was gorgeous, scary, melody; the theme of his dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

Puck woke up, the sun coming through a few spots of the dense forest. It was mostly darkish, other than where the sun pierced through the leaves. Where was he again? Oh yeah. He remembered the dancing, the boys, the song...That wonderful, awful song.

He stood up, starting to notice all the boys scattered around him, still sleeping. Many of them had tear stained faces. Huh. Puck wondered, _what on earth could they have been crying about_? He tried to think back, hoping to think of something that would trigger tears. But thinking of before he arrived at this strange place was difficult. It was all just a hazy blur of nothingness. Weird. He tried to shake away the feeling that something was slightly off.

Puck started to wander around, careful to step around the sleeping boys. Everything looked quite beautiful, actually. There were large trees, great for climbing. He decided to go into the woods a bit, see what else he could find. Maybe figure out where he was.

As Puck ambled along, he came across a large plant. It was thorny, and the thorns were tipped in something dark. It didn't exactly look welcoming, but he had to know what it was. He vaguely remembered someone once saying something about a curious kitten or something. Whatever that was supposed to mean. Puck reached toward the plant.

"I wouldn't touch that if I were you, laddie."

Puck spun around, only to see the same boy from the night before. The loner. "Why not?" Puck asked.

The boy stepped towards the plant, his finger brushing it, but carefully avoiding the thorns. "Because, this plant is extremely poisonous. It will allow you to die a slow, and painful death. It's called dream shade, by the way." He grinned wickedly. "Let's try to avoid that, shall we?" The boy nodded, almost mockingly. Puck joined him, silently agreeing to avoid that plant.

Puck watched as the boy rubbed the dirt off his hands onto his pants. "I saw you last night, you know. You were standing all alone. Why was that?" Puck asked.

The boy looked at Puck. "Ah yes, you're the new boy. So much for you to learn. I stood alone, stand alone, for reasons you will soon learn. But for now, all you really need to know is my name is Peter Pan."

Puck wondered why the boy said his name with such importance, like he was the king or something,

"Well, I can't just leave you out here in the big, lonely forest, can I? Come with me, lad. I'll bring you to where you belong," Peter Pan said, slinging an arm around Puck's shoulder, guiding him along. Puck still wasn't quite sure what was going on, or where he was, but it felt right. Or at least mostly right. Something was still a little off, but why should that matter? He had this boy, Peter Pan, showing him what it was like here.

Peter Pan finally led them back to where Puck had started. The boys were starting to wake up, some of them already milling around. As Peter Pan and Puck came more into the clearing, Pan leaned down and whispered, "What's your name?"

Puck told Pan his name. Peter Pan's eyebrow lifted slightly, recognizing the name.

Peter Pan looked up and gestured to the surroundings and said, "Well, Puck, this is your new home."

_Home_. That word sounded so comforting, so nice. "Welcome to Neverland," Pan said, smirking.


	3. Chapter 3

Peter Pan brought Puck to a stop, leaving him behind to go to talk to a tall, lanky boy. As they talked, the tall boy kept glancing over at Puck, sometimes nodding. Puck had no idea what that was about. Maybe he was the welcoming committee? Whatever.

Puck decided to go and talk to some of the boys, but found they were otherwise occupied. Many of them were beating up on each other, some even had knives they would fling at each other. Seemed...fun. Wait, fun? Where did that come from? Was this supposed to be enjoyable?

He felt conflicted. Puck wanted to believe that hurting other people for no reason was completely reasonable, but something was holding him back. Perhaps something from his past? He tried so hard to remember, to maintain what little bit of his conscience he had left, but nothing came up. No hint as to what was right or wrong, or how he was raised. He grasped so hard at the slightest memory, but he slowly felt his morals slipping away.

Puck picked up a knife. What the heck. This is what he wanted, wasn't it? He threw the knife, narrowly missing someone's head. That felt right...kind of...not really.

* * *

Peter Pan was sitting next to Felix, both of them watching how Puck was interacting with the other boys.

"He adjusted fairly quickly," said Felix dryly.

Peter Pan nodded. "He wanted to feel welcomed so badly, craved being loved, and was so tired of feeling abandoned, that the music affected him deeply."

Felix nodded, and watched as Puck pummeled another boy.

Pan stood up and dusted off the back of his pants. "Well, I suppose I should go and give him the initiation speech."

As Peter sauntered away, Felix sat and watched as Puck put pressure on his cuts, trying to slow down some of the bleeding. Felix shook his head. New recruits were just so vicious.


	4. Chapter 4

Peter Pan stood, all the boys, the Lost Boys, gathered around him. He clapped his hands for silence. All noise ceased immediately. The quietness was eerie.

"Boys! I've gathered you together to welcome our newest Lost Boy," he exclaimed. All of the boys cheered, and pushed Puck towards the front of their crowd so he stood next to Pan. Puck stumbled forward. _Lost Boys? Am I one of those now? What did I lose? _

Peter Pan grabbed his hand and lifted it high, like Puck was some sort of champion. "Welcome your new brother, Puck!" The Lost Boys clapped, hooted, and stomped.

Peter put Puck's hand back down. "Now, boys, let's give him a warm, Neverland welcome." Pan stepped back, leaving Puck in the center of the ring of boys. They started to come towards him. Some had sticks and were poking him. Others just came at him with fists. Puck lifted his arms to protect his face, but the boys kept advancing, smacking him, kicking him, jeering at him.

"Careful, lads, not too rough. He just got here," said Peter Pan. He turned and walked away. His work here was done. He knew that soon the other boys would become bored of beating up on Puck, but the initiation was always necessary. It showed the new recruits that they were not in charge, and they should respect their leader.

* * *

Soon, evening came. The orange sun cast a strange glow in the forest.

Puck sat up in a tree. His whole body hurt from his "initiation". And he was sure some of the other boys were hurting from when he was rough housing with them earlier. He didn't really want to fight with anyone because he knew, absolutely knew, that trying to hurt people just for the fun of it was wrong.

But the instincts were so strong. It felt as if something or someone was controlling his actions. He wanted to push his impulses back, so far back that his memory would return. But no matter how hard he tried, he could hardly remember anything. And the things that he did remember were not connecting. Mustardseed? How was that supposed to help him remember?

As he sat up in the tree, the sun slowly started sinking farther and farther down until the tip of it had disappeared. Then it began. The wretched song started to play.

Puck hopped down from the tree, his body wanting to go towards the fire in the middle again, to dance again. He wanted so badly to resist the urge. He fought against it, but his feet just took one step in front of the other, not caring that his mind was willing him to stop.

Again, he found himself in the ring of boys, the crazy song making them do what they did in their dreams. Everything with no restraints.

But that's not what Puck wanted to do, but the music was filling him, forcing his mind with the illusion that this was okay, that this is what it was supposed to be. His conscious mind started slipping away, leaving behind a strange, woozy, happy state of confused bliss.

Still, in his extremely abnormal joy, he noticed Peter Pan watching along the sidelines, blowing into his fife. The horrible instrument that was controlling his body.

Peter Pan noticed him watching, and stepped towards him, pulling him out of the frenzied group of dancing. Peter gripped his arm tightly.

"Ow," Puck said, rubbing where Pan had grabbed him. Even in his drunk-like state, he could still register pain.

Peter Pan gestured to a log. "Please, sit." They both sat.

Puck was confused. Why would he take him out of the Ring of No Control to talk to him? The feverish feeling still hadn't worn off, so everything was slightly out of focus, certain things too in focus.

Peter Pan leaned forward and said, "Puck, tell me about the place you were before you came here to your home."

Puck sat, confused. _Home? This is not my home. Place before here? What was before this accursed place? Why can't I remember? Why is he asking? _Thinking hurt, and his mind was all a big jumble of thoughts,feelings, and snatches of memories.

"Puck. Answer me," Peter Pan said forcefully.

_Why does he need to know? Doesn't he know I don't know? Doesn't he know he's the one that did this awful thing to me?_

"Puck! Snap out of it!" Pan reached over and smacked Puck across the face, hard.

Puck reached up to touch his face. It hurt, it hurt very much, but he knew if he didn't start remembering, it would hurt so much more.

Nostrils slightly flared, Peter Pan pulled Puck forward by his collar. "I need answers," he said, emphasizing his words with a quick, rough shake.

_Ow ow ow ow. I'm so sore everywhere. When will he stop? I don't stinking remember anything. Just leave me alone. _

Pan looked at him with disgust and shoved him onto the ground. As Puck was sprawled on the ground of the forest, Peter crouched down and practically spat into face, "We aren't finished yet, laddie. Oh, no. We've only just begun."


	5. Chapter 5

Puck woke up groaning. He was sore everywhere. He tried to reach up to wipe his eyes, and he realized his body was tied up against a tree, his hands tied together in front of him.

Puck was glad that the awful feverish feeling was gone. But now, all his bruises and cuts hurt so much more.

He looked up and noticed the tall, lanky boy from the other day. What was his name again? He had heard someone say it. Oh...yeah... it was Felix.

Felix was casually leaning against a tree, sharpening a knife on a rock. "Looks like you got on Pan's bad side, eh?" He shook his head and clucked his tongue. "That's not a good idea, you know. Pan always gets what he wants."

"But what does he want?"asked Puck.

Felix looked down, admiring his knife. "I guess that's for him to know and you to find out. He'll be back sooner than later. He just has some business to attend to with the Lost Boys."

"So, I'm assuming he left you here to make sure I didn't escape?" asked Puck.

"You catch on fast, little boy."Felix said sarcastically.

Puck decided to try to see if could move around at all. He could go from standing to sitting, and that was it. He sat and sighed, trying his best to get comfortable.

Since there was nothing else he could do, Puck went to sleep, hoping to dream of his past so he'd have something to say to Peter Pan when Pan returned.

_A face flashed in his view. The person was wearing a crown. A king? He said something about arranged marriage and a moth. Another face, this time a lady. She smiled falsely. It will be wonderful, she said. She said it over and over. A younger boy appeared, he was acting very regal, so proper. The faces blurred together, faster and faster until they morphed into one. His own._

Puck woke up to being kicked in the ribs. It was Peter Pan. It stung, but he tried not to cry out.

While he was asleep, it had gotten darker. Someone had made a small fire.

Peter Pan kicked him again. "Get up, laddie. The fun is yet to start." He grinned evilly.

Peter crouched down a bit so that he could look Puck in the eyes. Puck tried to look away. Pan grabbed his chin. "Now listen here, you're going to co-operate with me, and I'll try to keep the pain to a minimum. Do we have a deal? Hmm?"

Puck swallowed hard and nodded.

"Good." Peter Pan stood back up. "Now, let's try this again. Tell me about where you were before you came here."

Puck looked at him and said, "I honestly don't remember."

"Wrong answer." Peter Pan back handed him so that Puck's face slammed into the side of the tree. "Let's try again. I'd really rather not bring out my fife, if you're catching my drift."

Puck thought so hard. He didn't want Pan to bring out his pipe. He knew some of what that horrendous instrument could do. He'd hate to learn more.

"Erm...well... I had a dream about people's faces coming into my view and talking about an arranged marriage and a moth. I'm so sorry, I really don't remember any more."

Pan processed this for a moment. "I know what might help," he said, smiling unpleasantly. He pulled out his fife. He blew lightly into the fife. It made a light, off-key sound. But it was not as innocent as it sounded.

Puck covered his ears, groaning loudly. It felt like there were a hundred wasps in his brain, stinging him repeatedly.

Peter Pan blew his fife again. This time, harder.

Puck started to crumple. Pan kicked him to have him stand back up. The pain was anguishing. He was sure he had never felt pain this intense. "Why?" he cried out. "Why are you doing this?"

Pan stopped blowing on his fife for a moment to walk around the tree Puck was tied to. "No Puck., I didn't do this, you did this to yourself. You wanted to feel like you 'belonged'," he said, making air quotes. "You brought yourself here when you felt alone and abandoned. All I did was play the song that you heard. And you know what? Only boys that feel alone in your world hear that song. And you, you were one of the many that come here. And now, you have information that might be useful to me. You _will_ give it to me. No matter how hard you resist." He started to blow on his fife again.

"Please, please stop! I swear I don't remember. This hurts so bad! Please!" Puck screamed, his voice cracking.

"I can do so much worse," Peter Pan said, his voice slowly dropping to a whisper. He took a deep breath in and blasted into the fife.

Puck screamed, an awful heart wrenching, screeching noise. He screamed again, this time longer than the first time. He sank down onto his knees, and no matter how hard Peter Pan kicked him, he could not get back up. Slowly, Pan's kicks became dull thuds, like something Puck could hear, but not feel, and then nothingness. He finally passed out.


	6. Chapter 6

Felix came back to talk to Pan about the boy. "What is it you want to know so badly?"asked Felix.

Peter pointed to Puck's unconscious body. "They need information from that boy. They are convinced that if I get some certain information from him, it will help them immensely. And I'm sure that his father will somehow pay them handsomely to have him back, even if he doesn't love his son."

"How do you know that the king would do that?" asked Felix.

"Trust me, I know a thing or two about dysfunctional father and son relationships."


	7. Chapter 7

Puck started stirring. He was physically and mentally exhausted. He wasn't sure he could take anymore of Peter Pan. He never wanted to see that beast again. He reminded him so much of his father. Wait... father? He remembered! Or at least, remembered some. But should he tell Peter Pan anything? What was he planning? Would whatever cost he would have to pay be worth it?

He saw boots approaching his vision. _Please don't kick me. _Peter Pan leaned down and grabbed Puck's shirt and pulled him up by it. "Good morning, laddie. Nice day for some interrogating, don't you say?" He threw him roughly against the tree.

"I'm sure you now realize, but the song I played for you earlier is not only extremely painful, but it also helped bring back some of your memories. Am I correct?" said Peter Pan.

Puck gave a small, quick nod.

"Glad to see you're being truthful. Now, where were we? Ah yes. Interrogation. Do you remember your father saying anything about an arranged marriage?" Pan tapped the fife that was hanging off his hip and looked pointedly at Puck.

Puck thought hard. He remembered a finger, jabbing in his face, saying something about obeying, and this was the way it was going to be. And always something about a moth. What was with these people and moths?

"Um, I remember a lot being said about moths," said Puck. Puck wasn't sure how he should feel giving out this information. Was he betraying something or someone? Could he be ruining the kingdom by telling this demon boy anything? He just hoped he wasn't putting anyone he loved in danger. Wait, anyone he loved? Who did he love? His parents? His...brother? Wait, he had a brother?

Peter Pan nodded thoughtfully. "Well, that's a start, I suppose. We can work from there. Now tell me, what else do you remember about the moth?"

Puck thought carefully about what to say. How much should he really tell this monster? The memories were flooding back as he stood against the tree. But with all that he was remembering, he could not think of a single time that anyone ever mentioned Peter Pan. How could they not know of this...this conniving piece of garbage?

Puck decided to change things up a bit. "Why do you need to know?"he asked, doing his best to look unafraid.

Peter Pan fiddled with his fife, bringing it up to his mouth then pulling it away. "Good question. I might just reward you with an answer." He paced in front of the tree while he spoke. "You see, I've decided to join an army. This army likes to play games with people, and I excel at that. They practically came to me on hands and knees, begging for my assistance. I, of course, asked what was in it for me. They promised to pay me wonderfully. They gave me information that I so badly needed. And now...now I know I shall be powerful forever."

Puck did his best to process it all. But he was still curious about one thing. "Who is this army?"

Pan smiled maliciously. He pulled down on his shirt to reveal his chest. On it was something red. Blood? No, a hand print. "The Scarlet Hand."


	8. Chapter 8

Puck gaped at the red hand print. What did it mean? How come he had never heard of it? Who was the leader?

Pan pulled his shirt back up, enjoying the puzzled look on Puck's face. "And now, laddie, you may not remember everything, but your mind does."

Puck looked confused. "What do you mean?"

Peter Pan grabbed his fife. "This will hurt . Apologies," he said insincerely.

He started to blow into his fife, playing softly. Puck started to feel slightly dizzy.

Pan sped it up a bit, the notes going higher. Puck felt pain, starting in his head and reaching throughout his whole body.

Pan went faster, the notes reaching their highest point then dropping to almost nothing. Puck shook, screaming. He just wanted this pain to end. He was fading...fading...fading.

The dream state cycle Puck was stuck in was vicious. Everything felt so real. `

In, out, pain, none, love, abandonment, hope...nothing.

_When will this end? Make it go away._

Eventually, the cycle did end. Puck woke up.

"Morning, laddie. You know, the faerie mind is such a fascinating thing. I've now learned all I need to know," Peter Pan said triumphantly.

Puck was dismayed. He had hoped that it wouldn't work, and that Pan would never learn what he wanted to.

Pan walked over to the tree that held Puck, untying the ropes that held him.

"What are you doing?" asked Puck.

Pan pulled the ropes off, leaving just enough so that Puck's wrists were still tied together. "I've learned all I needed to. You are no longer of any use to me."

He started to walk away and suddenly stopped, turning back around to look at Puck. "One thing I forgot. I can't very well have you telling others about the Scarlet Hand. Imagine the fuss you would make. The Master doesn't want anyone to know until the time is right." With that, Pan pulled out his fife. He blew across it, in seemingly no order, the reeds blasting out an awful noise.

Puck staggered forward, tripping over a rock, falling on his face. Without his hands to support him he just lay there, waiting for the intense agony to pass. It did, surprisingly fast. Strangely, what hurt was not his body, but his mind.

Pan set his fife down. He reached down to help Puck up, finally untying his wrists while he was helping. "Now fly away, Puck. And hope to never return. Because if you do, I'm sure it will be much less pleasant of a visit."

As Puck's wings popped out and he was starting to lift off, Peter Pan looked after him and shouted, "Tell your father to enjoy his drink. I'm sure he will find it most... delectable."


	9. Chapter 9

Puck flew as fast as he could, trying to get away from the cursed island as fast as he could. As he flew, he thought about the time he spent there. How long was it? He wasn't even sure.

Puck thought about the awful things that had occurred. And Peter Pan. That monster. He tried to remember something about a red footprint? No, a pink tattoo? He couldn't remember. It was like Pan had placed magic in his mind to keep him from remembering.

He flew faster. He just wanted to get home, even though he knew it wasn't going to be perfect... please, not even close.

But at least it was a place where he could, you know, breathe without getting beat up every two seconds.

Speaking of getting beat up, he was so sore. He had bruises and cuts up and down his body. Especially on his face. He wondered how he was supposed to explain that. _Yeah, Mom. Sorry 'bout the bruises. Only got beat for information by a psycho maniac, no big deal. Might've betrayed the whole kingdom in the process. Oops. Of course I'll be fine for the ball tonight. What's a mutilated face compared to the embarrassment of missing a ball, right?_

Soon, his castle came into view.

He was so tired, he was sure that he would collapse before he even got to his room.

Puck finally…finally got to the castle. He pushed through the doors, ignoring the guard's surprised noises. He dragged himself to the showing room, the room with the softest carpet. He fell onto the floor, his last thought before he fell asleep, _I'm home._

_AN- sooo, that's the end! Hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for reading!_


End file.
